E Pluribus Unum Out of Many, One
by Wolvertique
Summary: Answer to a story challenge. Brian Braddock gets what he deserves. So do Victor Creed, Rogue, and Kurt Wagner. Please read & review!
1. In Britain

Author's note: I wrote this series as part of a story challenge. The parameters are listed at the beginning of each chapter, and are edited for younger and more sensitive viewers. ;)

1. Brian [Braddock/Captain Britain] gets his [rear] beat and Meggan leaves him! -- This is chapter 1.

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Brian Braddock was tired. He'd been running from one crisis to another all day, Meggan had been constantly calling him on his private cell phone ("Emergencies only, Meg. I've told you that."), and that last battle with a particularly nasty villain had worn him out. He was ready to call it a day when the bobby held up a hand. "Just a minute, Captain. We're getting a call."

He frowned. He hoped it was an easy one. He couldn't handle anything difficult right now.

The bobby made some notes and then hung up the phone. "Teenaged girl, stole from a grocer down in Kent. He says…" He turned around. Captain Britain was gone.

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Bridget Archdale sat behind a faerie mound and sighed. She'd been running all day since that stupid man started chasing after her, screaming that she'd stolen from him. Quite a life for a Vicar's daughter, taking food from people to survive.

She munched on some cakes she'd bagged before the codger leaped on her and brooded. If only Mum and Dad had been reasonable! It wasn't her fault she could sometimes see when people were going to die. It wasn't the Devil's work. Was it?

"Here, you!" An angry man stood over her, arms crossed. His blond hair fell over his blue eyes, so he impatiently brushed it away. "You're going to pay for stealing from an honest man."

"I'm going to pay?" Bridget was outraged. Like it wasn't bleedin' enough for her family to cast her out when she was still a kid (age thirteen), then when she finally got so hungry her bleedin' morals didn't matter, some ass decides to condemn her for trying to live? "No. You're going to pay!" She dropped her last cake in the mud and stood to her full 5'10" height. "Bleedin' judgmental stupid arse!"

The man looked arrogantly down his nose. "What are you going to do? Slap me? Pull my hair?"

She screamed in rage and used her full strength against him. She normally tried to hold back, but this time it was no holds barred. She threw him into the air, then flipped him over and slammed him head first into the ground.

He went down six feet or so. Only the soles of his shoes were visible. She felt a bit ashamed, then, but tried to hide it. She looked toward her last cake. It and the bread she'd sacrificed so much for were ruined. She nearly cried, then. After all that, she'd end up starving anyhow.

"Here." A pretty blonde woman was watching her. Funny, she hadn't seen her before. She was holding out a pretty fat wallet. "Take it."

"You really want me to." She couldn't believe it. Oh sure, occasionally people who were grateful to her for her little tricks she could do would pay her, but she hadn't done anything for this woman.

The woman sighed. "Any person can see you need a good feeding, girl. Other than Brian." Her voice turned bitter, and she gestured toward the man. "He can't even see that when his father's on the line, because his mother's gravely ill, and his wife calls him so he can come pay his final respects, it might be important."

Bridget blinked. It was all beyond her, but she took the wallet and nodded to the woman. "What are you going to do, now?"

The woman sighed. "I'm going to America. There are people there I know and trust, who value me."

Bridget tried to keep the frown off her face. Of course the pretty little blonde doll had someone who valued her. (That's not fair, Bridie, she told herself.) She tried a smile. "Good on you, then."

"I don't suppose you'd want to come with me." The woman cleared her throat. "I mean, I've been so used to having company, I'd feel kind of lost without it." Funny. She didn't look as pretty as before, just sort of nice. Cute at best.

Why not? Hey, three years here had been very lean, and at least this woman wanted her. Besides, she could always leave if she'd a mind to.

"All right. For your sake." She put out her hand. "Bridget Archdale."

The pleasant looking woman took it. "Meggan Braddock."


	2. Logan's Creed

Parameters for chapter 2. 

Wolverine goes ballistic and kills somebody(your choosing.)   


logan

He snarled and snapped, pulling every last organ out of the rib cage in front of him and shredding it. Every nerve in his body demanded it. Protection demanded it. Love demanded it. Caring demanded it.

Logan

The throat was already gone, but he started working on splitting the head open. It was hard going, but he kept trying, hands flailing, claws spasmodically sinking deeper and deeper.

LOGAN!

His mind finally seized on the voice. It was…it was…Chuck? Why was Chuck screaming at him?

For that matter, why was there a lot of screaming?

He slowly came back to himself. He had…heard something. He was in the hallway between the men's and women's dorm, and he heard something from the women's side. A half-hushed cry.

He stealthily slipped in and checked things out. Kitty was fine. Jubilee was out. Storm's room was up top. His distress increased. He knew what it had to be, but he made sure the others were okay first.

He entered her room and a growling voice met him. "Logan. Come for sloppy seconds?"

He knew it. It had to be Jean. He lost it. He pulled Creed off her and had it out with him, right there, right then. He lost every conscious thought in the red rage consuming him.

Now he saw he was still in Jean's room. She had been taken out (good, she was bleeding, he bled her), but Kitty, Rogue, Jubilee, and strangely enough, Scott, all were there watching him.

He tried to calm his breathing, calm his mind. Bits of Creed were scattered all over the floor. It was very wet and messy. He cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be with her?" He retracted his claws, remaining kneeling on the floor in Creed's blood.

Scott knelt down and looked into his eyes, red visor gleaming in the light from the hallway. "Are you in there now?"

"Yeah. Why aren't you with her?" He would not give in to the rage again. He closed his eyes. "Go see her, Summers. She needs you. I don't."

Scott stayed where he was. "I needed to see it. I wanted to help. God help me, I wanted to help. I needed to tell you that this time, I think you were right. I'm glad you killed him." The man's hand gripped his shoulder. It was so uncharacteristic of old One-Eye that he let it happen. Scott thanking him for killing someone? What crazy world was he in now?

Scott left. The girls did, too, after he told them to get out. He took what was left of the body and went out into the woods surrounding the mansion. After burning what remained of the flesh, he buried the bones, muscles aching as he cut into the ground.

A familiar smell reached him. Of course. She had to come, didn't she?

"Logan." She walked into the small clearing, yellow eyes watching him closely.

"Ain't no keepin' a secret around here, is there?" He watched Mystique approach, blue skin shining a little in the dying firelight.

"Not from me." She sat next to him. He pushed the last of the dirt over the adamantium corpse and frowned at her.

"Why are you here, Raven?"

She paused. "Your Jean and I share something."

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Need me to dig him back up so you can be sure he's dead?"

She laughed. "No. I am certain you are more than capable of disposing of anyone. I have seen you in action."

"Yeah." He leaned back. She curled up by his side and rested her head on his chest. "Dawn's comin' soon. You might get caught if you stay."

He couldn't see her, but he was sure she was smiling. "I am certain you can put off any pursuit, Logan, as can my dear son."

He put his arm over her. "Demanding dame, aren't ya?"

"I am not Danish."

"Hm." He started gently nibbling her fingers. "Let's find out."


	3. Breaking UpMaking Up

Parameters for chapter 3. Rogue gets b*tch slapped by Remy and Kurt gets some lovin'. Note: I made it more of a mental thing for parameter 1 because I don't think Remy's the woman beating type.

Hung over. Merde, he was more than hung over. He was hung under, sideways, and every other ways. He groaned. His head throbbed. His body throbbed. He was in severe pain.

"Hi, Remy!" Rogue was shouting. Couldn't she see his pain?

"Kurt and I just got back from our family weekend with Mystique. She's not so bad, really, once you get to know her, though she insisted that Logan come along. I don't get it. But anyway, how are you?"  


He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. "Rogue, either shut up and get some Gatorade for your amour or get the fuck out of Remy's room."

She paused. "You've been drinking again, haven't you? God, Remy, what's wrong with you? How can you do this to yourself?" She tsked, an irritating sound, and he blew up.

"Let's see here, chere. You leave Remy in Antarctica and lie to the Professor about him. Logan don't believe you and rescue Remy, and you treat him like an old pair of shoes when he get back. Remy decide he forgive you, and you walk all over him. Get out of my life! Remy need someone who care about him, who love him, who not try to kill him and then protest that she love him."

She started crying and ran out of his room. Good. He couldn't take any more of her sham cries and sobs any more.

God, he needed a drink. He already was thinking about how to apologize.

No. This time it was over. He pulled himself up blearily and headed for the kitchen. If Jubilee had taken his Gatorade again…

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Rogue ran by in the hallway outside his room, sobbing, and Kurt looked up from his lesson plans. "Rogue?"

Wanda took his hand in hers. "Go on if you need to."

He craned his neck, listening. "Kitty is seeing to her. I think I can stay." He bent his head over the plans again.

She kept her hand on his, gently stroking the back of it, raising the fur gently and watching it fall back. She'd tried to make it plain for months how she felt, but Kurt kept treating her as a friend, oblivious. Wasn't it obvious by now? The picnics, the long walks, the heart-to-hearts over their siblings' problems … she wouldn't talk with just anyone about Pietro, of course.

Would he ever notice her?

He started giggling as she played with the fur at his wrist. "Wanda, that tickles."

"Really?" She kept teasing his fur and he growled a little in play.

"I am going to have to teach you a lesson." He reached over and trapped both her wrists in one of his strong hands, then began methodically tickling her ribs with his tail.

"Kurt!" she gasped out, laughing so hard she thought she'd burst. "Please!"

"Do you give up?" His face was close to hers, nearly within range, so she leaned forward and kissed him.

He stopped tickling her, though he maintained a grip on her wrists. She pressed in, tracing his lips with her tongue, and he parted them gently, returning her tentative movements with his own.

He suddenly let go of her and pulled back, tail lashing the air. "What are you doing, Wanda?"

"It's known as kissing, Kurt. I was kissing you." She waved a finger at him, teasing. "I thought you were supposed to be the teacher here. Shouldn't you know this by now?"

"But, Wanda…" He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up. A piece stood straight up near his left temple, and she struggled not to laugh. "I should not be doing this. You have trusted me with your friendship. I should not take advantage of it."

Wanda walked to the door, closed it, locked it, then turned around. "Again, teacher, you seem to have missed something. I kissed YOU. I wanted to kiss you. I've wished you'd kiss me for months now." She stalked toward him, emphasizing her words. "I wouldn't mind if you did more, either. That tail felt pretty good once you stopped tickling me. I have to wonder what else you can do with it."

"Wanda!" Kurt nearly fell out of his chair. He had been trying to be so good. What was she doing? Could it be that she really did return his interest?

"So. What else can you do with it? Or are you going to run from me?" Her hands were planted on the arms of his chair, her legs parted over his, and he felt warm and embarrassed and lusty and trapped all at the same time.

"Ja. Perhaps you should let me up."

She stepped back and he stood, then took one step back. Her face fell and she stared at her shoes, noticing her left little toe had nearly worn through the side. "Come here."

He was sitting on his bed, eyes shining. She frowned. "Why should I?"

He smiled. "One thing I learned at the circus, liebe. If you are going to put on a performance, it must be in the proper place." His face shone with mischief and she breathed a sigh of relief, then sat next to him. He was right, after all, she thought, as she melted into his arms.


End file.
